Nothing at All
by Wicked Wonder
Summary: The sequel to Nothing's the Same. It's finished!
1. Only the Beginning

Boy Meets World 

"Nothing at All"

Rating: PG-13 for strong language, themes, and just on general principles. Plus, the slash lives!

Setting: Directly after "Nothing's the Same"

Note: This is the sequel to "Nothing's the Same". That's all you really need to know.

Feedback: Is a great way to shed pounds and inches. Vixxxen@rocketmail.com

Disclaimer: What? You think I own them? Um... does lusting count towards ownership?

For: the Macs among us

Chapter One- Only the Beginning

I walk down the streets of New York. After seven years of living here, it's home and I can't imagine living anywhere else. I round a corner and see my apartment building. It's an old converted brownstone. Good neighborhood and all. I moved in here two years ago.

I pick up my mail, sorting through bills, junk, and see a letter from my mother. She's fine, she writes. Josh likes his school. They both send their love. It's still weird realizing that my mother and Josh live in Montana, but Mom seems to be happy.

After I check my messages, I turn on the television. Candy, the successor to Oprah, is on. Today is her book club, and Shawn's making an appearance on her show today. 

Candy starts the interview by asking Shawn about the new book. I know all about it, because I received an advance copy. Everything that Shawn writes, I read. 

"It's about the struggles of a family on the streets." As he speaks easily, I can see that he is not entirely comfortable with the cameras, but he hides it well. Five years is enough time to get used to almost anything.

"Where do you get inspiration for your stories?" The perky interviewer asks.

"Some from my own experience. Others- I don't know. I just write." Shawn gives his patented lady-killer smile.

"So, are you seeing anyone at the moment?"

Shawn blushes lightly as he shakes his head no. Immediately the women in the audience respond. They scream and one stands up and says, "You can call me, honey!"

He strokes his goatee reflectively as the interviewer asks an odd question. "I was reading your book before the show started. I was looking over the introduction. Your dedication reads, 'To Cor- in fine weather and foul'. Want to explain that?"

"Well, Cory Matthews is my oldest and best friend." Shawn leans back a little in the chair and smiles. "The quote is something that I use to illustrate our friendship."

700 miles away from where he is, I smile.

After the interview's over, I turn off the television and go into my small kitchen. Nothing's in the refrigerator, so I decide to go out and grab something for dinner. I'm about to head back out the door when the phone rings.

"Hello?" I say, prepared to get anyone off the phone with a few words.

"Cory?"

"Hey Eric." I'm actually glad to hear from my brother. Nowadays, we're doing good if we see each other on holidays.

"Hey. Did you watch Shawn's interview?"

"Of course. What are you up to?"

"Today? Dad wants to have Jack and I over for dinner, so we're tied up for the evening. You?"

"Same as usual. Catching up on paperwork, then crashing."

"You should come and visit us soon. Haven't seen each other in a while."

It's scary that even after almost ten years of not living together, Eric and I can still be so in synch. "Get out of my head! I was just thinking that."

"So, will you come?"

"I'm due for some vacation time at work," I say thoughtfully. I thumb through some papers on my desk and find my calendar. "Um, how about we try for a month from Saturday? I can stay for a week."

"Sounds good. Looking forward to seeing you."

"Me too," I say sincerely. "Talk to you later."

"Bye, Cory."

***

A month later finds me on a plane back to Philly. After all this time, I still don't like flying, especially after the attacks on the World Trade Center. I knew people who worked there. Hell, I almost worked there. 

I basically white-knuckle my way through the whole flight and am picked up by Eric. My brother still pretty much looks the same as he did all those years ago when he graduated from college, except that he wears glasses now, like me.

We embrace each other whole-heartedly. "Hey," I say when we finally part.

"Hey yourself. How much luggage did you bring?"

I claim my one suitcase and we go to Eric's car. "Where's Jack?" I ask.

"Still at work. He'll be at the house by the time we get there."

Eric drives through the now-familiar streets. We pass the trailer park where Shawn used to live, now an empty lot. John Adams High School still looks the same, and I halfway expect Eric to park so that we can go to school.

We finally pull up to Eric's house. It's weird thinking of it as Eric's and not Mr Feeny's, although I think Feeny still technically owns it. He lives in Florida now with Dean Bolender-Feeney, happily fishing each day, he writes.

I follow Eric inside, noting some of Josh's pictures on the walls, along with photographs of us taken over the years. I'm staring at one of Eric and I when we're real young when the ringing doorbell gets my attention.

Hesitantly, I answer the door, and am pleasantly surprised to see my father there. "Dad, hi," I say, before hugging him tightly.

We stay like that for a while, with me briefly noting how I can almost slip right back into the same Cory Matthews that I was when I was here. My dad's pretty much the same as he was when I moved away; just more involved with the store. Eric says that he rarely dates, that he just pours his efforts into his work.

"Well, won't you come in?" I finally say.

He follows me into the living room as Eric reappears from one of the back rooms. "Hey, Dad. Just get here?" he asks.

"Yeah. Just trying to catch up with Cory here. So, how goes it at the office?" He says to me.

"Same old. Endless paperwork, social climbing, all of the endless things I put up with. It's a job." I stop and take a breath, surprised at myself for saying so much. "How's the store?"

"Good." My father goes on to detail the things that he's done differently since the last time I visited the place. I listen politely, even though I have no interest in the world of camping supplies.

When he finally stops talking, Eric asks, "So, are you ready for dinner now?"

I look up at Eric quizzically. "Isn't Jack joining us?"

"He has some things to do at work, and I thought it would be nice for the three of us to eat together, you know, catch up on old times."

"Sounds good, but I have some paperwork that I need to do before the store opens tomorrow. We'll go out before you go back, all right, Cory?" My dad touches my arm briefly and exits before anyone answers. Eric, unfazed, says, "Looks like it's just you and me."

The restaurant that Eric takes me to is nice and unfussy. We order and sit quietly, waiting on our meals. Eric suddenly breaks the silence.

"So, are you seeing anyone in New York?"

I blush and stammer out a negative answer. "You know how it is, I'm too busy..."

Eric holds up a hand, halting my babble. "You said that the last time I asked. When was the last time you went out on a date?"

"Well, let's see. There was Paula, we went out a couple of times..."

"You told me about Paula," Eric interrupts. "That was at least a year ago. Anything a little more... current?"

Defeated by my own ineptitude to lie to my brother, I simply shake my head. "I'm just not... ready," I finally say.

"Not ready?" Eric repeats. Realizing that his voice can carry, he lowers the volume of what he says next. "Cory, it's been almost three years. I know that you don't want to talk about this, so we're not. All I'm going to say is that maybe you'll never feel completely ready, but you have to at least make the effort."

I look over at him steadily. "I haven't met anyone worth the effort."

Eric sighs theatrically. "Oh, Cory, Cory, Cory. Can't see the forest for the trees, I see."

I narrow my eyes at him. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"Maybe you don't have to look so hard, Cory." After he says that, Eric gives his full attention to the food, leaving me baffled. I try catching his eye, but when I succeed, he only comments, "If you're not hungry, we can take that home."

As we're driving home, I ask him, "What you said in the restaurant, about not looking so hard- what do you mean?"

Eric says patiently, "Maybe the person you're looking for is already there."

That makes even less sense than the first statement to me, so I let it go and stare out the window at the passing scenery.

========================================================================

Should I even make predictions of when the next chapter will be up? Let's put it like this- if my muse doesn't give up on me, and I can find time, I'll try for... whenever. Sound good?


	2. Stuck in the Middle

Chapter Two- Stuck in the Middle

I arrive back in New York a week later, feeling refreshed in body but troubled in mind. Eric's veiled comments keep flashing through my mind, and the more I think about them, the less sense they make.

So, after a long day at work, catching up on things, I come home, sort my mail, and play my messages. I have the ones from people that I know in the city, people I'm friendly with but not friends. I delete all of those but pause when I get to the last one. 

_"Hey Cor, it's Shawn. Haven't heard from you in a while. Hey, had a favor to ask. My house in town is getting worked on- something about structure failure. Can I stay with you? I would stay in a hotel, but..."_ I picture Shawn shrugging. _"Anyway, call me on my cell. Thanks."_

I immediately pick up my phone and dial. Three rings later, I hear a voice say, "Hunter."

"Hi, Shawn."

"Cory! How are you?"

"Great! Listen, I got your message. You know you're always welcome anytime, man."

"Well, I didn't know if you had... any guests."

"Nope, it's just me," I say lightly. "Come over anytime."

"Will do. Thanks again."

I hang up the phone and start getting dinner ready, which involves taking the plastic off of something frozen and nuking it. After I make sure that the guest bedroom is neat, I set the table. As I'm finishing up, Shawn rings the doorbell.

We greet each other effusively. "Man, it's been ages," I say when we separate.

"I know. These book tours seem to drag on forever. But I shouldn't complain. I mean, the book is selling."

"I really enjoyed it. That main character, he was a total..."

"Screw up?" Shawn supplies helpfully.

"Yeah. He... was real."

"Glad you felt that way." Shawn moves through the room with confidence born of familiarity. He takes his one suitcase to the guest bedroom and tosses it in there. "So, do you feel like going out tonight or did you want to stay in?"

"Well, I warmed up something for dinner, but if you want to go out, there's plenty of restaurants around here."

"Well, I don't want you to go to any trouble..." Shawn starts.

"Nah, just let me throw this..." I look at the unidentifiable casserole, "food in the fridge and then we'll take off, alright? There's this place that serves great barbeque."

We take a cab over to the restaurant and walk right in. Sometimes, having a famous author for a best friend is definitely a good thing. While we're there, we make the usual small talk, catching up on the little things that we missed about each other. Several times, Shawn looks up and tries to say something, but he never says what he wants to. I'm puzzled, but I don't want to pressure him into anything, so I let the comfortable silence stand.

On the way back to my house, he turns to me in the cab. "Um, have something to tell you," he mumbles. "But not here, okay? At your house."

"Fine with me," I say briefly. 

I pay the cabbie and we walk into the house slowly. Outside, the kids are playing, taking advantage of Indian summer. Inside the house, I put on coffee, waiting for Shawn to make his big announcement.

After we sit there for a while, sipping the bad coffee, Shawn finally sighs and faces me squarely. "I'm glad you let me stay with you, but I kinda had an ulterior motive."

"Why Shawny," I say, amused. "Why? Planning to throw a wild party here?"

"It's kinda obvious that you haven't been watching television lately." He goes into the guest bedroom and comes out with a neatly folded paper. He hands it to me and watches me closely as I quickly scan it.

It's a headline from a newspaper. It screams, "Famous Author's Lover Speaks!" There is a picture of Shawn, not a recent one, and a picture of a guy that manages to look wistful and sullen all at once. The article is short and to the point. Sometime during the past year, this guy, Jeremy, claims that he had a relationship with Shawn that went sour and now he wants to tell the world how wronged he was. After I finish my cursory look, I turn my attention back to Shawn. "Well?"

"Well, some of it is true. We were together for almost eight months. He wanted to keep it secret, I didn't care as much. We broke it off and now he wants everyone to know."

I sit there, aware that my mouth is open and I don't even have the capability to close it. "What? Am I... I mean, was I missing something?"

Shawn looks at my confusion and flushes a dull brick red. "You honestly didn't know."

"About Jeremy?"

The flush lightens and Shawn takes on his fatherly tone that he likes to use sometimes. "About my being gay. I just assumed that you knew and that you just didn't want to talk about it."

"Why would I have known?" I ask, honestly confused. "Unless..." I stop as something else occurs to me. "You told Eric and Jack!"

"Of course. They were the ones who helped me deal, being in the public eye and having all of this self-discovery while I was at it."

"But it never occurred to you to, you know, tell your best friend?"

Shawn throws up his hands and sighs again. "I wasn't sure how you would react."

"You saw how I reacted to Eric and Jack!"

"Cory, you were in shock for about four months."

"You know how I react to change!"

"Well, how are you going to react this time?"

The question hangs in the air for a moment. I look at Shawn carefully. He's standing there, more tense than I've seen him in a while. His face is carefully blank and disinterested, but his eyes, which are ever expressive, show hurt, a little fear, and something else that's making his eyes impossibly large.

"You know we're good. Nothing will change between us." I stand up and embrace Shawn again, making a point to grab him extra tight, just like I always do. After a beat, he hugs me back just as tight. 

"You can always come to me, all right?" I whisper in his ear.

"I know." He pushes me away, grinning. "Now, I want you to see something."

He turns on my television and turns to one of the entertainment channels. A bunch of reporters are camped around Shawn's house. A calm female voice says, "Reporters are still waiting for comment from Shawn Hunter. So far, he has been incommunicado." The station shows a clip of the guy, Jeremy, talking. In this clip, he only looks wistful.

"I miss him, I really do. He still holds a place in my heart-"

Shawn abruptly turns the television off and for a second, I think he's going to throw my remote through the screen. "That he can go in front of everyone and say shit like that. It astounds me," he spits out. For a second, I'm thrown by the profanity, but really, I'm more surprised at the venom in his voice.

"Do you want to talk about it?" I say tentatively.

"There's not much to say. Met him at this bar I like to go to sometimes. Hit it off. Didn't realize that he's some famous actor himself. He was very much in the closet. Now, his publicist thinks that he could be the next Rupert Everett."

I hear the pain in Shawn's voice and something twists deep inside my stomach. "Did... did you love him?"

"Not like I could have, you know? I was always afraid of getting too deep inside of it, so that I couldn't get myself back out. But I did care for him." For a second, the bitterness in Shawn's tone breaks and I can hear the affection. For some reason, this twists the knot deeper in my stomach.

Something flickers across Shawn's face and it's deeper and darker than pain. "It wouldn't be so bad if this was something that we both were in pain about. But this is all like some brilliant career move for him. I was just some messed-up experiment."

I don't know how to respond to that, so I just grab him again. For a second, I think that he's going to break down, something neither of us is prepared to deal with, but he just sniffs hard and then says softly, "Thanks."

"No problem," I respond and say, "Well, it's been a long day. Have work in the morning, so I'm turning in. Anything you need before I go?"

"Nah, I'm good. Night."

"Night, Shawn." I turn and walk into my own bedroom. I change into sweats and climb into the covers, prepared to fall instantly asleep. However, my body isn't cooperating, so I get back out of bed and go to turn on the television. As I walk by Shawn's room, I hear a low voice coming from inside. Curious, I stand there for a second, telling myself that I only want to know who's on the other end if Shawn's on the phone. For all I know, he could be reading aloud or something.

"Yeah, yeah," he's saying impatiently. There's a pause, and then he says, emphatically, "He said that nothing will change between us. That's exactly what I feared."

At this point, I don't even try to figure out the meaning, I just pad on quiet feet back to my own room and pull the covers over my head. Sleep doesn't come easy, but it comes.

Hey, I might actually finish this one in this century! Thanks bunches for the kind reviews. Just a warning- if you're wondering where the actual slash is, it's coming next chapter. Cheers! 


	3. Or is this The End

A/N: Before I get started, I want to thank all of you who reviewed so nicely! Your reviews have really kept this story going. So, on to the story!

Chapter Three- Or Is this the End

The morning dawns bright and early. As I sit up in my bed, after a surprisingly good night's sleep, I stretch and yawn and think about what I have to do that day. The words that I overheard the previous night still don't figure into my mind, because I'm concentrating on things that I need to get out of the way before Shawn and I can spend the day together. This will be the first time that we'll be able to just hang out in a long time.

So I check in with work briefly, get my needed appointments out of the way, and come home to hear Shawn on his cell phone. Apparently, he has it plugged in somewhere audible, because I can hear who's on the other line- Angela.

"... and Shawna's doing fine. She's loving her new school and everything, and she wants to know when she'll see you next."

"Tell her the very next time that I'm in London, I'll stop in. Is she still up?"

"No, she went to bed an hour ago. I'll tell her in the morning. So, is anything new on your end?"

Shawn makes a non-committal sound. Angela laughs. "Well, I guess not. I still think you and Cory would make a cute couple."

When I hear that statement, my fingers lose all feeling and I almost drop my briefcase. I manage to make my way to my bedroom quietly and sit on the bed before I think about that last statement.

Shawn and I as a couple? What could have given Angela that crazy idea? 

I realize I should have stayed and heard Shawn's response right as I hear Shawn hanging up the phone. As I listen to him roam around the house, I sit on my bed, mulling over the idea of Shawn and I... together. It seems like some weird dream.

Finally, I have the presence of mind to change out of my suit and into something more casual. When I finally emerge from my bedroom, Shawn's already in the living room. He's reading something and his attention is focused on the sheaf of papers in his hand. When I come into the room, I softly clear my throat to get his attention. He jumps a little, but then smiles. "Are we ready?"

"Yeah," I reply. He stands up and as we walk to the door, I blurt out what's been on my mind. "Hey, would we make a cute couple?"

Shawn stops dead in his tracks and looks at me, more than a little shocked. "What?"

"Um, because, I was wondering," I say vaguely. 

"What brought this on, Cory?"

"Stuff," I say lamely, wishing inside I'd never brought the subject up. "So, what did you want to do?" I ask in a bad attempt to change the subject.

Shawn won't let me off the hook that easy, though. "Look, we need to talk about this, okay? No more evading the subject."

Sighing, I go and sit on the couch. After a beat, Shawn joins me, sitting on the opposite side. "So, why? I mean, what made you think of that?"

"Well, I kinda overheard your phone conversation with Angela. And whoever you were talking to last night." I pause and narrow my eyes. "How do you want things to change, Shawn?"

It's his turn to sigh and look down at the floor. When he finally looks up, his eyes are unreadable. "Never mind, Cory."

"Never mind? What's there to mind?" As I'm looking at him, something finally clicks inside my head. His eyes are suddenly frighteningly clear to me. "Oh my god."

"Yeah." Shawn stares at the ground again. "Are you mad?"

"How long?" I ask curiously.

"Too long," he mutters, still way too interested in my carpet.

"How long is too long?" I press him.

"What did you want me to say?" Shawn faces me squarely. "That when you married Topanga, I wished that it was me, standing next to you at the altar? That I've been in love with you for eight years?"

Too stunned to say anything, I look fully into Shawn's eyes, seeing the pain there. When I finally tear myself from his gaze, I say the first thing that pops into my head. "Did... does Angela know?"

"Yeah. Um..." Shawn gets up and starts pacing, his cheeks flaming. "Do you remember when we were younger, how Angela told Topanga that I called someone else's name at a bad moment?"

I vaguely remember that incident, so I nod and wait for him to continue. "Well, afterwards, Angela and I were still close, but our relationship wasn't the same. So when she moved to London, we called it off."

"I thought you were devastated about that," I murmur just loud enough for him to hear me.

"I was, but not for the reasons you thought I was. I didn't want to face the fact that I might be gay, and Angela basically made me face that head-on."

"What about Jeremy?" I say, internally wincing at the name.

"I really did care for him. That's what kinda got me in this situation with him. Like I said, I never let my feelings get too deep for him, but-" Shawn stops, takes a deep breath, and continues, "And he knew that he wasn't first in my heart. I think that if I had put him first, maybe he wouldn't feel like he needed to do this."

"And maybe the guy's just an asshole," I say dismissively. "If he really cared about your feelings, then revenge would be the last thing on his mind right now."

"Yeah, well..." Shawn's voice trails off and he gets off the couch in one fluid movement. "Look, I can understand if you want me to leave."

"What? No, stay as long as you need to!" I get up too and turn to face him. "Um, it's just, can I..."

Shawn sees what I'm trying to get out and says, "At least you didn't punch me."

I laugh, a little on the strained side, but my mind has already moved on in new ways to embarass me. "So, wasn't it my name that you called out when you and Angela were, you know?" After I say that, I clap a hand over my traitorous mouth, wondering why I hadn't grown out of the habit of blurting out everything I thought like everyone else.

"Yeah," Shawn muttered, gaze back on the ground. "Did I ever catch hell for that one!"

Feeling a little bad, I touch his shoulder briefly. "Hey, it's just that I'm so sexy and all..."

Shawn snorts and walks past me to go outside. He's out the door before I even think to follow him.

One very exhausting, but fun, day later, Shawn and I end up on my couch, reliving old times. It doesn't help that we caught happy hour at two different locations. We're slightly drunk and really maudlin. After the 'do you remembers' and all of the stupid small talk that we degenerate to, we're sitting quietly on my couch. Shawn's kinda nodding off, and I get up, a little too keyed up and uncomfortable to sit still. Suddenly I think of something I can do, and leave Shawn asleep in the couch as I go to my room.

I dial the familiar number and count the rings. The other line is picked up and I hear a breathless "Hello?"

"Jack? Hey, it's Cory. How've you been?"

"Great! And you?"

"The same," I say, trying to inject fake enthusiasm into my voice. "So, is Eric around?"

"Yeah, hold on."

A moment later, Eric comes to the phone. "This better be important! I was about to get taken advantage of!"

I can't help but laugh at that, picturing Eric's perturbed face. "Sorry," I say insincerely. Then I think of the reason I'm calling and my amusement fades. "Hey, I need to talk to you."

"Isn't that what you're doing?"

"Anyway," I say, ignoring my brother's sarcasm, "Shawn's staying with me, and apparently he's in love with me."

"And?"

"And? Insert your various expressions of surprise here."

"You're not getting any from me! We know. He told us over two years ago."

"Two years!" I can hear my voice rising to pre-adolescent levels and attempt to lower it. "Does everyone know?"

"How would I know? Anyway, don't screw him over. He's been hurt enough."

"I know," I say a bit more quietly. "He's here because of it. Are you guys keeping up with the news?"

"Yeah. He called Jack last night, to let us know he was okay."

"And I am taking good care of him. He's my best friend..." As I'm speaking, something else pops into my head. "You were talking about this at the restaurant!"

"I was," Eric states, "trying to get you to see that, yes."

"But... oh." My brain stops, and sluggishly begins working again. "Okay, let's not factor in the part where Shawn's my closest friend. Or even the part where he's a man."

"Got it. So Shawn's a stranger, and apparently a girl. Continue."

"What about the fact..." my voice trails off as my throat closes up.

"The fact that you still miss Topanga?" Eric asks softly.

"Yeah," I whisper.

"I think you and I know the cliches by now. Time heals all wounds, the four stages of grief, blah blah. But I think that it's a little more personal than that. If you need time, tell Shawn that. Don't let him worry."

"Okay."

"So, are we finished? Because Jack's got this great new body paint..."

"Yes we are. Too much info. Bye," I add hurriedly, and hang up the receiver. 

I go back out to the living room, where Shawn is still sound asleep. I grab an afghan, a gift from Morgan, and toss it over him.

"'Night," I whisper, before I go in my room and go to bed.

The next day, I wake up really early. I turn over and look at my clock, and the flashing display reads 5:20am. Puzzled why I'm up so early on a day when I don't have to be, because today is Saturday, I get up and pad around my bedroom, looking out at the early light before the sun actually rises. I turn back to look at my bed, the covers still messy and thrown back, and for some reason, this makes me think of the previous day and all of its revelations. 

I sit back down, determined to think this through. I know that I love Shawn, like I love Eric or any of the members of my family, but knowing that his feelings toward me aren't exactly brother-like makes me a little hesitant to describe my feelings like that. Plus, isn't that the line that everyone uses as a brushoff? 'Sorry, but I think of you as a brother.' 

I frown as that last sentence goes through my head. Although Shawn is close enough to me to be my brother, I really don't think of him like one. I lay back on my bed and try to imagine Shawn kissing me. It isn't a bad thought, but I immediately feel guilty, like I'm betraying Topanga's memory by even thinking of someone doing that with me.

I leave my room and go to Shawn's, belatedly remembering to knock before I enter. Shawn's still asleep, which surprises me a little before I glance at his clock and remember that it's still before 6am. I turn to leave and hear a soft sound behind me.

"Hey Cor, what's wrong?" Shawn asks sleepily. I turn back around to see him sitting up and stretching. 

I feel kinda bad for waking him up, so I say, "Oh, nothing. I just wanted to ask you something."

"Well, no time like the present." He pats the bed, and I sit down next to him. 

I open my mouth to ask something inane to get out of there, but "Why didn't you tell me?" comes out.

"Tell you what?"

"About how you felt for me."

Shawn sighs softly, and starts picking at the pillows. "Because... I knew that you didn't feel the same way, way back then. And I didn't want to make you feel uncomfortable or like you had to avoid me."

I nod in understanding, because I can accept that. Then I say softly, "It's just too soon..." My voice trails off and I feel that familiar lump cropping up.

"Do you feel like you're cheating on her?"

"That's exactly how I feel," I murmur, not willing to voice my thoughts any louder. "But," I say, raising my voice, "I did want to tell you that the thought of you kissing me does not repel me."

"Thank you Cory. That means a lot to me."

"What I mean is," I continue, ignoring him, "I think I need some time, to let go. Is that okay?"

"That's fine. Now, can I get some sleep? And suggest that you get some too?"

I want to argue that I'm wide awake, but a yawn slips out. "'Kay." 

"Sleep good," Shawn says, as I pad back to my room.

"You too," I say, before I go back into my room and shut the door.

I wake up several hours later, with the sun shining into my room. I sit up, stretch, and began to pick out some clothes for the coming day. As I move around, I note that the apartment is silent, something I've grown to hate over the last three days. Curious, I peek into Shawn's room and see a neatly folded sheet of paper on the freshly made bed. It has my name on it, so I open it.

_Hey Sleeping Beauty,_

_I wanted to tell you this in person, but it seems for once in your life, you took my advice! So, I decided to go back to my house. It'll give you time enough to think. Don't worry about me, the press and I usually get along just fine. So, call me in a few days, or I'll be in touch. _

_Shawn_

_PS: Strangely enough, the thought of kissing you does not repel me, either!_

After I read the PS, I chuckle a little and pick up the phone. A few rings later, Shawn answers.

"Hey, I didn't want to wait a few days. What time did you leave?"

"Only a couple of hours ago. Like I said, I did want to talk to you, but you were dead to the world!"

"So, are the press and you getting along?"

"Believe it or not, there was only one guy still camped out! And he left after I promised that I wasn't going to do anything newsworthy."

I chuckle at that and then say, "I really will think about this, you know."

"I know you will. So, any plans for today?"

"Not really. Guess I can stand to clean the apartment, or go grocery shopping."

"The exciting life of Cory Matthews," Shawn teases.

"Don't you know it," I quip. "Well, I'll let you run. Don't be a stranger!"

"Wasn't planning to be. 'Bye."

I hang up the phone and sit, lost in thought. The clearest thing running through my head is that if I get into a relationship with Shawn, it will be the same, but enhanced somehow, like something we couldn't say before will be out in the open. 

Still, a small part of me has to get used to the idea of me macking on or being macked on by my best friend. Although I was honest with Shawn when I told him that the thought of kissing him didn't repel me, it did make me wonder about myself, and what crazy universe had I ended up in where kissing my best male friend was a good idea.

I get up off the bed and start to move around, shaking all thoughts out of my head. I have time enough for thinking later. 'I'll think about this some more later,' I tell myself as I start to get ready for the upcoming day.

A day passes, then a week, and before I know it, a whole month has passed since I learned about Shawn. I think about him at the weirdest times- at work, in line at the store, when I'm running errands. And they're odd thoughts about how soft his hair is, or how his eyes sparkle when he's really happy, or just how happy he makes me. Finally, I realize that as I'm thinking of Shawn, I can think of Topanga without feeling that someone stabbed me in the chest. 

I realize what I have to do, and set out to go do it.

I go up to Shawn's door, not hesitant, now that I know what I want.

I knock and immediately Shawn answers. He smiles at the determination on my face and steps aside to let me in. I walk in until I'm right inside the doorway. Shawn turns to face me, amusement and a little confusion apparent in his glance.

Still silent, I step forward until personal space between Shawn and I is a memory. Now really sure of how to start, but knowing that I can, I slowly lean my head toward his. Once he realizes what my intention is, he tilts towards me, and we sort of... meet in the middle.

From the moment our lips touch, my brain shouts two things: _I'm kissing my best_ _friend!_ and _My god, why did I wait so long?_

Out of all the girls I've kissed, they had one thing in common, they were all soft and willowy, smaller than me. And I was (seemingly) in control. This is very different. Shawn is every bit as tall as me, and the only softness in him are his hair, which I'm stroking softly, and his eyes, which he still hasn't taken off of me.

When we finally stop, due to lack of air, I take in my best friend's reddened lips, flushed cheeks, slightly tousled hair, and I smile at the thought that I did that to him.

"So," Shawn says, slightly panting, "Any questions?"

"Why did you keep your eyes open?" I ask curiously.

Shawn is silent for a moment. Then he says softly, "Because I wanted to make sure it was real."

The simple response floors me, and for a second, shock dances across my face. Shawn catches it and says smirkingly, "Going to freak out now?" Underneath, and fleetingly, I can sense the hurt.

"No," I assure him, stepping close again, "I'm going to show you how real this is."

END

Thanks bunches to all of the people who helped me stick with this! And I might write a sequel to this (I know, me and my sequels) but not unitl the far, far future. Ciao!


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